Mad World
by BLACKxDOVE
Summary: After finding that Regina had kept Belle from him, Rumple enacts his revenge upon her by stealing away her memories, her happiness and her sanity. Emma helplessly aides him in his horrible deeds as she owes him for the deal they once made, and is forced to watches as Regina and herself spiral into a world of madness.
1. Part I

**Part I  
**_Lost in the Madness of her Own Mind_

* * *

Glossy, brown eyes stare absently out a smudged window, the black pupils caressing the darkness that lives beyond the glass, as if taking note of each forlorn raindrop. The woman slumps further into her chair, her full, cracked lips moving silently as she soothes herself with her quiet ramblings. Her eyes widen suddenly as her gaze is filled with a flicker of colour, a burst of life that rattles up her spine and ghosts across her heart. Ripe, red apples decorate the dying limbs of a tree below her window, a flash of scarlet imprints within her mind as if the colour holds a deeper meaning somewhere within her shredded soul.

Reaching out, her hands quivering with desperation, the woman presses her fingertips into the cold glass and shivers. Tracing her nails over the faraway pieces of red, as if she can feel the skin of the apples beneath her touch. The woman's chest fills with a tight warmth that quickens her pulse and her focus grows distant as her crumpled black and white memories flash behind her dark eyes; a small boy plays beneath a hearty, healthy apple tree, his smile seems to light up the entire world as his hand folds into the woman's, their fingers lacing.

A shudder of cold washes the woman to the shores of reality as her palm slides away from the window, her large brown eyes trembling with tears. Dark strands of hair curtain her face, drowning her features in shadows as she falls into herself, tightly pulling her knees to her chest. The sound of a door opening makes the woman lift her face, her tear streaked cheeks luminous in the ominous room. A woman in red cautiously walks towards her and kneels down, setting her hands against the woman's knees. The touch is warm with a tinge of compassion and it allows the dark haired woman to lay down her defenses as she eases her feet back onto the floor.

Licking her lips, the dark haired woman looks up through her tangled hair and into familiar green eyes, her heart stutters in her chest as her gaze caresses against golden curls. Leaning forward, the dark haired woman grips the other woman's collar in her hands, her fingers curling around thick, red leather as she pulls. "Happiness," the dark haired woman murmurs, her dark eyes flashing wildly as she brings her and the other woman's faces closer together, "does happiness exist?"

A tight frown pulls at the blonde woman's lips and her green eyes flicker away from the fearful, desperate gaze of the brunette. Tears create a rawness within her throat and the blonde gently wraps her palms around the brunette's shivering hands. Pulling them away from the grip they hold on her jacket, the blonde shifts her gaze back into the watery brown eyes in front of her as a plastic smile sets on her lips. "Yes, Regina," the blonde whispers, comforting the dark haired woman as she absently strokes a thumb across the other woman's cold knuckles, "happiness exists."

They sit that way for what feels like an eternity, the brunette's eyes unfocused and tear-stained as they stare out the window, while the blonde's heart seemingly breaks within her chest as she continues caressing the disturbed woman's hands. Eventually, the pain that prickles between them becomes too much, and the blonde chokes on a sob as she realizes the dark haired woman has once against lost herself within her mind. Clearing her throat quietly, the blonde pulls herself away from the other woman and crosses the room, opening the door and soundlessly shutting it behind her.

In the cool, white hallway is where the blonde allows herself to crumble, and she leans her back against the door, her spine curving with grief, as hot trails of tears slip down her cheeks. When the sorrow within her heart grows far too heavy for the blonde to carry, she turns around and stares into the small, clean window in the door of the dark haired woman's room. As her green eyes trace every curve and swell of the woman's body, trying to remember all of the horrible things she has done, the blonde still cannot seem to condone this type of punishment.

A familiar crackle in the air ripples behind the blonde as someone approaches her, and her back instantly stiffens as she reaches up a hand and presses her palm against the glass. "You do realize what we're doing to her, don't you?" The blonde questions the person behind her, her voice cracked and stilted with her own remorse, "we took away her memories, we took away her happiness. We stole everything from her." Spinning around, tears blurring her fiery green eyes, the blonde sneers at the man standing in the hallway with her. "She's lost in the madness of her own mind, and I cannot—I _will not_ be apart of this anymore."

The sadistic smirk that creeps across the man's face makes the blonde's stomach coil in disgust and she can nearly feel the bile rise in her throat as he takes a step closer to her. "If I'm correct, Ms. Swan," he whispers in a slow, lilted tone that makes the blonde's eyes burn with fury, "you and I made a deal some time ago—I'm simply getting my repayment."

Harsh pressings of self-loathing tangle within the blonde's limbs and she bites down hard on her tongue, as if the pain will somehow soothe the hatred she currently harbors towards herself. "No," she whispers to herself as she clenches her eyes closed, hoping to hide away from the reality of her choices. "I'm done, Gold!" The blonde screams suddenly as she tries to brush past the man, but fails as he catches hold of her arm, violently jerking her back. A look of defiance cloaks across the blonde's face and her green eyes sharpen as she struggles against him.

Though, the fight within her quickly dies as the realiaztion of his strength and power careen against her face with the force of his hands gripping her cheeks. Turning the blonde around, the man makes her look through the window—forces her to watch helplessly as the brunette paces throughout the tiny room, her lips moving quickly as she mumbles to herself. The blonde's despair prickles within her eyes and droops against the curve of her mouth as the man whispers into her ear, "no, dearie, you will never be _done_—you will live with the grief of destroying the Evil Queen—of destroying the mother of your child. _This_ is your payment."

His hands roughly pull away from the blonde's face and she slumps against the door as she listens to his footsteps fade down the hallway. Pressing her hand to the window once more, the blonde feels the truth ring forcefully within her ears, knowing full well what she has done to the brunette. And as her fingers ghost across Regina's frantic body, unable to actually touch her through the glass, Emma sobs as her eyes overflow and slowly shut, closing out the mad world that she has found herself living in.

* * *

**A/N: This was written for a prompt I received over on Tumblr, and since this idea quickly came to me I wrote it down. This is only suppose to be a one-shot, but if there is interest I could possibly take expanding it into consideration, as I really enjoyed playing around with this idea. Anyway, as always, feel free to leave a review!**


	2. Part II

**Part II  
**_Waiting for the Nightmare to End_

* * *

White knuckled fingers gripped the crackled steering wheel tightly, as if the pressure alone would drive away the hideous demons that relentlessly swirled around within the blonde's head. Stale, lifeless tears rested among her dark lashes as Emma turned her focus to the blank face of the large, white mansion. A shiver ran up the base of her spine to her neck where her guilt wrapped its invisible hands around her throat making the blonde gasp for breath. Blurred and skewed images flashed behind her green eyes as she finally stepped out of her car. Images and memories of quietly contained fights and scathing arguments burned against Emma's retinas as she slowly scuffed up the pathway to the front door.

A crippling tension grappled with the blonde's body and rendered her legs motionless, forcing her to stand silently and still as her glassy emerald eyes stared vacantly into the closed white door. Cold hands buried in warm, jean pockets as golden strands of hair billowed across Emma's anguished face. The expression that creased her features could be described as pleading, as if the blonde was waiting for a specific moment. Continuously begging a higher power for the moment when Regina would come storming out of the picturesque house, fuming with rage; her crackling energy completely bombarding Emma's senses.

Clenching her eyes shut, the blonde let her shoulder's droop under the weight of her sorrow as her mind was quickly filled with the flickering thoughts of passionately dark eyes, dubious red smirks and witty remarks that cut to the bone. These were the things that she was missing, the things that Emma knew she would never see or hear again. An icy shudder collided against the blonde's body as she opened her eyes to find that she was still alone, still powerless to the debts she owed. The dark haired woman's characteristic were now only a memory the blonde was forced to imagine every aching minute, a painful reminder of the choices she had made, and now Emma was perpetually waiting for the nightmare to end.

Shaking away the tremors of a lingering chill that had worked its way through her veins, the blonde steeled herself, squaring her shoulders limply, as she crept the rest of the way towards the front door. Reaching into the pocket of her jacket, Emma slowly pulled out a single gold key, an object that was now deemed her's, and grasped it tightly within her palm. A sigh, that was nearly a whimper, fell from the blonde's lips as she allowed the metal teeth to bite into her flesh; the pain in her hand seemed to resonate within her soul and together—inner and outer agony—sang a beautiful harmony of torture.

As she climbed up the last stair and reached the door, her fingers positioning the key into the lock, Emma found herself absently wondering how many times Regina had done this: had come home from an emotionally jarring day to her beloved son. For some reason, the notion seemed to warm a place in the blonde's chest and the odd sensation cradled her as she entered the house. The click the door made as it slid shut rocked Emma from her pleasant ponderings and back into the ominous web of horror and self-loathing she was currently living in. Sucking in a breath at the desolation of reality, the blonde paced through the foyer and into the kitchen, her mind seemingly spinning in a haze as she looked blankly through a mansion that didn't rightfully belong to her, but was now her's all the same.

"Henry?" Emma called, her voice sounding faraway to her own ears as she sat the gold key upon the marble island. After a couple of moments without a response, the blonde shrugged noncommittally and reached toward a bowl of fruit, plucking a large, crimson apple from the top. Taking a large bite of the crisp fruit, and tasting the potent tartness of its flavor, Emma suddenly found that she was no longer hungry. Walking to the trash can, the blonde opened the lid and loosely dropped the apple into the darkness, but stopped, her heart sputtering in a panic as she saw Henry's storybook seated about the rubbish.

Pulling it from the garbage hastily, Emma found a wealth of fear waft over her at the idea of her son being in danger. "Henry!" The blonde called loudly as she chased through the house, searching every room. When she reached the dining room, Emma's heart slowed as her green eyes looked through the glass windows of the twin French doors that led to the backyard. There was Henry, sitting mindlessly in the damp grass with his body facing the Mayor's apple tree, his face upturned as if admiring the fruit.

Breathing a sigh of relief, the blonde crossed the room and stepped outside, walking over to the boy. "Henry," she said slowly as she knelt down beside him, passing him the book, "I found this in the garbage, I thought—" A small hand roughly pushing the storybook away made Emma's sentence stick within her throat as she helplessly watched the book fall from her fingers and onto the grass. "I don't want it anymore." Henry said softly, turning his head to look the blonde in the eye; the expression of infinite sadness etched along his childish features made Emma's heart stall in her chest as she was overwhelmed with another round of grief. "It only causes trouble," the boy whispered as he diverted his gaze away from his birth mother and back to the apple tree.

Stiffening at Henry's cryptic words, the blonde eased herself into a sitting position and felt a strange emptiness filter through her limps making her feel lifeless and weak. "Come on, Kid," she said easily, with a forced grin on her face as she reached toward the storybook and gently set it on the boy's lap, "you love this thing." The lack of sunlight caused eerie shadows to play over Henry's cheeks as he looked down at the book absently, as if he were looking through it. His small fingers traced along the gold, scripted title before he stood, letting the book fall back onto the grass. Green eyes traced along the slope of the boy's back as he shuffled toward the tree, standing on his tip-toes to pluck a ripe apple from a low branch.

Groaning as she lifted herself from the grass to follow her son, Emma hugged her arms around herself, hoping to comfort the gnawing emotions that welled inside of her. The sadness and frustration was rolling off Henry in sweeping waves and the blonde shivered as she approached him, watching the boy's fingers caress the skin of the fruit before he bit at it hungrily. Wiping the juice from his lips with the back of his hand, Henry looked over to Emma, unsaid words radiating out from his large, blank eyes. "How is she?" He finally asked, as he took another bite, as if the apple would hide the worry and fear that creased against his features.

The question came as a surprise, and the blonde had to gather all of her strength in order to maintain her lies; she hated being dishonest with her son, but Emma knew that the boy could never know about the terrible things she had done—the horrible choices she had made. Tears prickled in her eyes before she could lower her gaze to the ground, and the blonde found herself fidgeting under Henry's desperate stare. "She's fine," Emma shrugged, kicking at a clump of dirt with the tip of her boot, imagining herself as the ball of mud: her treatment instantly becoming more violent.

Henry chewed on a bite of the apple slowly as he nodded, turning away from the blonde as he leaned against the rough bark of the tree, clinging to it with all of his might as memories of shaded summer picnics, and winter activities speckled through his mind. When his fingers met the tree, feeling against it in exploration, Henry could almost picture his adoptive mother beside him and he closed his eyes softly as he let the weight of the apple disappear, tossing the core to the ground. "When can I see her?" The boy asked gently as he forced his mind to recollect every detail of Regina's face, as if attempting to emblazon it in his cerebrum for the rest of eternity.

A sob caught in Emma's throat as she reached forward and pulled her son to her, wrapping her arms around his slight frame in a tender embrace. "Soon," she lied, tightening her hold around his body. "You never say it, but I know you miss her," the blonde whispered into Henry's hair, letting a single tear trail along the curve of her cheek as her heart breathed _I miss her too_ within its breaking depths.

* * *

**A/N: Well, as it seems, many people wanted more chapters to this story, and I personally wanted to delve deeper into this narrative as well, so, here it is: Part Two! I'm not sure how I feel about this particular part, but I hope that you all enjoy it. And, as always, please feel free to leave me a review!**


End file.
